


The Case of the Little Mermaid

by liztrade



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen, His Last Vow, His Last Vow Spoilers, Light Angst, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liztrade/pseuds/liztrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day before her wedding, Camilla Temple goes to Sherlock and John to help find her missing groom. As the details emerge, they discover that the case has taken the form of the famous tale by Hans Christian Anderson. During the case, Mary's betrayal hangs over John. Set during 'His Last Vow'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Little Mermaid

It was an abnormally hot September day when it happened. People shut themselves into their homes to keep out of the heat. There were very few cars on the roads. Window box air conditioning units were humming. John Watson had been out to buy some beer and was eager to be inside Sherlock Holmes’s cool flat again. He had only recently moved back in with the detective. Perhaps that was why the temperature was so high; John’s temper was flaring hot. Mary’s betrayal cut him like a knife. He was hurt yet he felt incredibly guilty. She was pregnant with his child and he left her. She was his _wife_. The thumb drive she had given him lay on top of his desk in his former room. Surprisingly, Sherlock hadn’t touched a thing in his absence. The room was just as he had left it years before.

John had just stepped onto the doorstep of 221 Baker Street when something caught his eye. It was a manila envelope, and as he picked it up, he saw that it was addressed to Sherlock. John lifted the flap and looked inside. A bottle filled with dirty water was all that it contained. Small stones and sand lined the bottom of it. There was no note, and John immediately thought of a similar envelope that had been delivered to them two and a half years earlier.

“Shit,” he muttered, opening the door and running up the stairs. “Sherlock!” repeated John when he opened the door to their flat. “I think you-” he stopped when he saw Sherlock talking to a young woman. Her eyes were puffy and red. “Oh, Jesus, I hope you didn't make her cry.”

Sherlock turned to him and raised his eyebrows. “Ah, John, this is Camilla Temple.”

“Hello,” John said, shaking her hand. “Here with a case?”

The woman nodded. “My fiancé is missing. The wedding- it's tomorrow!” She began to cry again.

John glanced at Sherlock. “What do you think? Pre-wedding jitters. Possibly ran off to clear his mind?”

Sherlock shook his head. “It appears to be a kidnapping.” He eyed the case of beer. “Are you taking up drinking now? That’s the fifth case you’ve bought this week.”

“Shut it, Sherlock,” John said through gritted teeth. He had been drinking quite a bit over the past two weeks, but he felt he had the right to do so. “What’s about the kidnapping?”

The detective gave him a pointed look. “She says her fiancé is Erik Portman, though why that

matters-”

“Hold on, I know that name. He's the fishing heir. The one who washed up on the shore last year after his boat sank in a storm.” It was quite the story if John remembered correctly. Portman was one of the top bachelors in England, young and attractive. He also seemed to be a bit reckless. He went out sailing on a stormy night and crashed his sailboat against the rocks. A young woman found him on the shore and called for help. John looked at the woman across from him. “That makes you-”

“I found Erik,” Camilla said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “I just want to find him again.”

“Lestrade's at the scene now,” Sherlock explained. “Miss Temple is here to try to convince me to take her case.”

“You've found missing people before,” said Camilla.

John suddenly remembered the envelope in his left hand. “This came for you,” he said, handing it to him. Sherlock opened the envelope and took out the bottle. He unscrewed the cap and sniffed it.

“It's from the Channel,” he said, screwing the cap back on. He peered at the contents at the bottom. “And there's sediment collected at the bottom.”

“What does that mean?”  
Sherlock stood up and walked to the window. “Where did you get this?”

“It was by the stairs. Sherlock, I know what you're thinking-”

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock yelled, taking large strides across the room to the doorway. “Mrs. Hudson!” he repeated as he ran down the stairs.

John realized he was still holding the case and moved to the kitchen. “So, is it going to be a big wedding?” he asked, putting the beer in the refrigerator.

“It's supposed to be, yes,” answered Camilla. “I swear that if that dancer is involved in this-”

“Dancer?”

Camilla rolled her eyes. “Yes, dancer,” she spat. “She's a quiet thing and acts wide eyed and innocent while she dances at a club.”

“Why would she be involved?”

“Erik... Erik used to go there, before we met. Apparently she was his favorite. Her vocal cords were messed up in a botched surgery, so she can barely talk, but it's pretty obvious that she has the biggest crush on him.”

Sherlock was holding something wrapped in paper when he returned to the room and was followed by Mrs. Hudson. “They came this morning,” Mrs. Hudson explained. “I don't know who sent them.”

“What are they?” John asked. Sherlock dropped what he was holding onto the table.  The paper unraveled to reveal at least a dozen fish tails cut off from their respective bodies. “Fish tails?”

“Exactly,” said Sherlock, pulling out his phone. “Lestrade, I need you to look for something. At the crime scene, I believe that there will be something in an envelope, the envelope being sealed with wax. You've found something like that? What is it?” Sherlock paused, and John saw the detective’s eyes sparkle. “That will be all; I'll let you know if I've found something.”

“Sherlock, what did they find?” asked John when the call ended

“The stories of Hans Christian Anderson.”

“What?” Camilla asked. “What's that got to do with anything?”

The pieces fell together. “The Little Mermaid,” John said.

“Very good, John,” Sherlock said with a smile. “The fish tails represent the mermaid's tail that she gave up, and I'm assuming that water sample is where we'll find Erik.”

“But it's just a fairy tale,” Camilla argued. “It's not real.”

“Ms. Temple, are you familiar with the story? I'll explain it to you since your mind appears to be so dull.”

“Sherlock,” John warned.

“Hush, John, she needed to hear it. There was a mermaid who loved the land above. One night she went to the surface and fell in love with a prince. There was a storm that night and the prince nearly drowned, but the mermaid saved his life and brought him to shore. After she leaves, another woman finds him and gets him help. The mermaid went to a sea witch, and trades her voice and tail for legs. She is told that it will be extremely painful to walk, but she takes the risk regardless. The prince soon finds her and brings her into the palace to take care of her. She dances for him because he likes it, even though the pain is excruciating. The prince pines after the woman who he believed to have rescued him, and he eventually finds her. The couple marry, and the mermaid is given the opportunity by her sisters to kill him. She couldn't do it, and she throws herself into the ocean instead.” Sherlock sat down in his chair and smiled. “No offense, but you don't exactly sound like the mermaid in this situation.”

“Um, she did mention a dancer when you were out,” John suggested.

“Ah, good, what was her name?”

“Gillian,” Camilla said, “Gillian Loch. She works at the _Girls Galore!_ club by the docks.”

“Thank you. John, I'll be at Bart's to determine where this water came from. Ms. Temple, you're free to leave.”

“What about me, Sherlock?”

Sherlock grinned. “Naturally, you're going to find Miss Gillian Loch.”

* * *

It wasn't as if John hadn't been to strip clubs before, but today he felt extremely uncomfortable doing so. He arrived at the club and talked to the manager, asking where he could find Gillian. The manager told him that she was dancing but would have her break in thirty minutes. John sat at the bar, ordered a beer and tried to blend in as much as he could. His wedding band felt incredibly heavy. Women danced against poles, gyrating to the music. John really tried not to look, but he ended up locking eyes with one of the women. She looked very young, and had wavy blonde hair and wide blue eyes. The brief description that Camilla had given him made him believe that this was the woman he was to meet.

Thirty minutes passed, and John was on his third pint. _You don’t have a drinking problem_ , he thought to himself. _You’re allowed to be upset about this_. The guilt of leaving his unborn child crept through his veins. Sighing, John put the glass down. The blonde dancer walked up to him at the bar and smiled.

“Are you Gillian Loch?” he asked. She nodded, and John pulled a pen and notepad out of his pocket. “My name's John Watson. I heard that you can't talk, so you can write your answers on this.” She nodded again. “You probably haven't heard this yet, but Erik Portman has gone missing. He's probably been kidnapped.”

Gillian's eyes widened and her smile was gone. She scribbled quickly onto the pad. John leaned over and read her writing.

_When did this happen?_

“Sometime during the night,” he answered. “His fiancée believes that you might be connected.”

Gillian shook her head. _I didn't have anything to do with this, I swear._

“How did you know Erik Portman?”

_I saved his life._

“Ms. Temple claims that she did that.”

Gillian shook her head again. _I was walking home during that storm when I saw his boat crash into the rocks. I ran off of the docks and swam out to him. He was drowning. I pulled him to shore and left to get help. By the time I found somebody to help me, she was already there with him._

“But you saw him again after that? Camilla Temple doesn't sound like she likes you.”

_Erik would come here sometimes. He liked it when I danced for him. You have to believe me that I would never do anything to him. I just want him to be happy and safe._

“We're on the same team then. We've been left some clues, and we're trying to put them together to find Erik.”

_What kind of clues?_

“Some fish tails, a book of fairy tales, and a bottle of dirty water.”

_The dirty water- what was in it?_

“Stones and sand, stuff to help us find the area.”

A light bulb seemed to go off in Gillian's mind because suddenly she was smiling again.

_If the kidnapper is playing a game, I think I know where he is. I'll be right back._

Gillian left the bar and John read her notes over again. This was the mermaid of the case, mute and rejected by the man she loved. Though he felt himself faintly rooting for her own happiness, John knew that happily-ever-afters were a rare find in the real world.

The dancer returned wearing street clothes, and together they left the club. Taking the pad and pen again, she scribbled that they needed to go to the area where she rescued Erik. John pulled his phone out and called Sherlock.

“John, you know I'm busy-”

“We think we know where he is.”

“What?”

“Gillian thinks that the kidnapper took him to the spot where he was rescued.”

“Oh! Of course! Stupid, why didn't I think of it first? I'll phone Lestrade, have him send out a team. I'll be out shortly.”

John and Gillian continued to walk together, the wind tousling her hair slightly. In the light, she looked even younger and more innocent.

“If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?”

_21_

“And why are you dancing at a strip club?”

She shrugged. _It's a living. I used to want to study aquatic life. I couldn't afford to go to university, and my grades weren't as good as they could have been, so here I am._

“Don't give up just yet. Maybe there's still a chance for you.”

They walked for another fifteen minutes and John could smell the sea in the air. Gillian stopped and pulled John's jacket, pointing out at the rocks that lined the beach

“There?”

She nodded.

“You probably already noticed the ring on his finger, but John’s marriage is currently in an unhappy state,” said a voice from behind.

“Jesus, Sherlock.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” the detective, shaking Gillian’s hand. “You’re the dancer, I presume?”

She nodded, and they resumed their walk. The air from the sea was cool and a Godsend. “Gillian says she rescued Portman before Camilla found him.”

“Interesting, just like the mermaid.”

Gillian looked at John, a confused expression on her face. John shrugged, feigning ignorance. They had nearly reached the rocks when Gillian broke into a sprint. There appeared to be something lying in front of them, and the men quickly followed suit.

By the time they reached the rocks, Gillian was already untying the ropes around Portman's hands. The man appeared to be unconscious, and there was dried blood near his temple. John crouched next to them, taking hold of one of the heir’s wrists. He was relieved to find a steady pulse. Sherlock was on his mobile again, letting Lestrade know where he could find them.

“He's been here for four hours at most,” Sherlock said, his eyes going over the man's body. “He was hit in the head with a blunt object, but it wasn't here. No, he was moved from his home to this place. See the crook of his elbow? It was injected with some sort of chemical, probably to keep him unconscious in case he woke up again.”

“But he will be alright, yeah?” John asked.

“He'll come out of it.”

“Sherlock, do you have any idea who could have done this? I mean, it’s obviously not Moriarty this time. Is it a warning?”

“Probably a copycat. You put the case of the Bruhl children up some time after I went into hiding, so anyone could have read it.”

“Look, I put that up to try to prove your innocence-”

A murmuring sound interrupted them. Portman was beginning to stir. Gillian was nowhere to be found.

John stood and spun around. There was no sight of her anywhere. “Gillian!” he called. Naturally, there was no answer. In the distance he saw Lestrade's car drive into view. The police would be with them shortly.

“Sherlock, she's gone,” said John.

“She probably realized her part in the story would not be continued,” he said, his eyes still fixed on Portman. “Can you hear me?”

Portman groaned as he sat up. “Where am I? And who are you?”

“We're here to help,” John answered. “You've been hit in the head, and you're probably been drugged.”

“Shit,” Portman put and to his head and softly touched the injured area. “Is Camilla alright?”

“She's fine. She'll be here soon, I suppose.”

“Yes, that's all fine,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

Portman shook his head. “I don't know.”

“Oh come on, you have to remember something. Man, woman, who was it? How many?”

“Sherlock, he's in shock.”

“I've been in shock and I could still function-”

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock stopped speaking and stood up. “I'll be back with Lestrade.” He walked away and John turned to Portman.

“Sorry, he's always like that.”

Portman smiled weakly. “Thanks for finding me. How did you do it?”

“We had some help,” John answered. “Look, there's something you should know: Gillian Loch helped us. She left before you woke up. I suppose it was her being shy or something, but without her, we probably wouldn't have found you for some time.”

“Who?”

“She’s a, um, exotic dancer at _Girls Galore_.”

“Oh, right, her. I haven’t seen her in months. What do you want me to do?”

“Help her. She wants to go to university but is having a difficult time coming up with the money. Maybe you could help her a little bit. She's done so much for you, and you don't even know it.”

John heard the sound of footsteps approaching at a rapid pace. Before Camilla threw her arms around her fiancé, Portman nodded. “Alright.”

John smiled. It wasn’t perfect, but maybe Gillian would have her happy ending after all. As he turned to leave the couple on the beach, his thoughts went to Mary. Could they still have a happily-ever-after?


End file.
